


disorder between sleep and serenity

by terencjusz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bittersweet Ending, Blood, Character Death, Dystopia, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Linear Narrative, Sleep Deprivation, Smoking, Torture without violence, not major character so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-28 00:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8422903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terencjusz/pseuds/terencjusz
Summary: Oikawa Tooru looks surprisingly fine, thinks Ushijima. A weak light barely illuminates man’s face but it is enough to see the dark circles around thebloodshot half-shut eyes and not especially healthy skin tone.A few days is enough to turn a breaker of hearts into weak scraps of man.“A few days is not enough to break me, Ushiwaka-chan,” says Oikawa with tired smile. Oikawa Tooru who belongs to the group of rebels (and may or may not be responsible for leading them) has been caught and sentenced to Resocialization Centre for indefinite amount of time. A state of his hair and skin is not the biggest problem there - it's his state of mind which needs to be untouched, his beliefs which cannot be doubted.





	1. pay for our secret wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> omg??? somehow i managed to finish it. just 2nd chapter needs to be... ugh. organized.  
> hope u enjoy ♥

The first thing Ushijima sees after entering the room is obviously darkness and a light of lamp that stands out in it. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, then he focuses on the cruelly hunched over silhouette and this person's hands, once free, now handcuffed and attached to desk.

The interrogation room is almost bare except for an uncomfortable chair, a metal desk with lamp and a definitely more comfortable chair. Walls are gray but it’s not very visible in this light and, also, this detail is not important for any of interrogated there previously.

Oikawa Tooru looks surprisingly fine, thinks Ushijima. A weak light barely illuminates man’s face but it is enough to see the dark circles around the bloodshot half-shut eyes and not especially healthy skin tone.

A few days is enough to turn a breaker of hearts into weak scraps of man.

“A few days is not enough to break me, Ushiwaka-chan,” says Oikawa with tired smile. “A week won’t be enough. Whatever period of time won’t be.”

Ushijima starts a normal procedure anyway. Nobody’s words are sufficiently valuable to make the procedure look differently. Things have to be done.

“First and last name?” he asks.

“Don’t say you've forgotten the name of your best friend?” chides Oikawa who may not have energy to stand without staggering but he for sure has energy saved for backtalking.

“Age?”

“Twenty-four.”

That is how their chat looks like for the next ten minutes. Exchanging the information which could be easily found in the files. But nothing lasts forever.

“Oikawa Tooru, accused of participating in illegal organization, which aim is overthrowing a government; equal with treason.” Ushijima looks flatly at person in front of him. “Do you claim responsibility for this activity?”

Oikawa’s chestnut hair is in such a big mess that it could rival with natural bedhead of Kuroo. But it is also dirty and greasy and _Iwa-chan for sure wouldn’t like to touch it ever_ , appears the thought in Oikawa’s mind. But a real question is _will Iwa-chan ever see his hair in this state._

“Don’t you have any blankets and pillows? I feel slightly uncomfortable in my cell. You can’t let my beauty go to waste because someone forgot to give me a warm blanket.”

His requests are ignored but, actually, there was never a chance of them to be fulfilled.

“Among accusations we can list,” Ushijima’s impassive voice is able to put Oikawa almost to sleep if not for a little tiny detail – it's annoying. “Terroristic attack with help of tear gas, thieve of military equipment, going out after curfew, attacks on guards-”

Ushijima raises his eyes from above the documents he saw so many times in the last few days that he remembers all Oikawa’s accusations by heart.

Oikawa, of course, does it too so it is not surprising that when Ushijima looks at him, he sees only a bored expression.

He leans towards Oikawa. “We are aware that not all of these are your faults. Rebels' organization is not small, you are just a raindrop in the ocean and you should not take a blame for these people. You probably do not even know the every single person who committed mentioned crimes. We give you an unique chance.” Ushijima moves a clean paper towards Oikawa. “You give us names of responsible ones for these crimes and we will reduce your sentence.“

Oikawa sizes him up, behind his eyes begging for some rest. His hand trembles, gesture that could be easily overlooked, but not in Ushijima’s case, so he hands him a pen. Oikawa hesitates for a while, clearly fighting with himself inside but eventually on the sheet appear four digits.

_2007_

Now it’s Ushijima turn for calculating stare. There's nothing on Oikawa’s face – no smile, no narrow eyes, no frown, no raised eyebrows, no biting cheeks from the inside.

“Is that a code?”

“Almost,” Oikawa replies, then elaborates. “If you put a dot after first zero, you’ll have a date of my birthday. Please me with a nice present.” Oikawa leans on the chair, handcuffs clink, strained to their limits. He snorts what sounds like an animal-like taunting laugh and his expression sharpens.

Ushijima stands up. “I guess you are having a few hours to rest before we meet again. Hope you will do as I tell you”

“Oooh, are we playing a good cop? Thank you very much, Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa’s expression almost softens and animal-like look in his eyes almost disappears. “But I have a type and it’s someone who’d help me out this prison! Not someone who fucking interrogates me!”

“Are you done?”

“With this shit,” Oikawa hisses and pouts what would be funny in any other circumstances. 

Ushijima presses the button under desk and Oikawa blinks once before guards enter and pick him roughly up. "See you later," is Ushijima's goodbye, while Oikawa's goodbye is poking a tongue out at him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Go,” whispers Oikawa, giving a reassuring squeeze to Akaashi’s arm. Sign that he will be there, observing how things are going.

Akaashi comes out of shadows, first step is hesitant, following ones are a lot more confident. He is going toward a guard who stands by the hedge which determines the park area.

“What are you doing there? The curfew’s going to be in fifteen minutes,” guard growls and exhales the cigarette smoke which enfolds Akaashi. _About 35 years old, average height, brown hair, tanned, biceps smaller than Iwaizumi’s, legs not so muscular as Kuroo’s_ , black haired man estimates.

“I don’t feel safe this late in the evening. Isn’t your duty to ensure the safety of civilian?” asks Akaashi, putting the weight on left leg and thereby exposing the nice curve of his hip. Guard seems to size him up, from soft features, through slim waist, finishing on long slender legs.

Guard doesn't think a lot about it, exactly how they have predicted. “I can give you a small walk as long as you’re going this way,” he answers, pointing with his finger on the avenue with a hedge on the side.

Akaashi shrugs, offering a tiny fake smile. “I’m content with that.”

Guard smiles in way that would make everyone doubt his good intentions. Actually, both Oikawa and Akaashi know that's true that there is none - and it is also a reason why this target is the best target.

As they are walking, with Oikawa hiding in the shadows on the safe distance, guard strikes up a conversation. Akaashi gives him replies which are polite enough to cover his nervousness, always accompanying him in this kind of tasks.

Guard’s hand appears on Akaashi’s low back. He lets it be for the sake of his task and not a long moment later, he feels a squeeze on his ass and, this time, he turns his head on guard.

“I don’t think you should,” he says calmly.

“It’s after curfew already,” guard narrows his eyes. “So I’ll arrest you or you are going to give me something,” he says, pushing Akaashi towards the hole in the hedge. Akaashi plays his role, pretending to be in shock and allowing the guy to drag him behind trees and bushes.

Guard undoes his belt. “You look as you’re good in this stuff, kid,” he laugh and leans against the oak. He waits but instead of pleasure he meets a stinging pain in his thigh. “What the fu-” are his last words, before he falls unconscious.

Akaashi fast draws back and hides the syringe in the pocket inside his jacket. “Oh god,” he whispers, “It’s disgusting.”

Oikawa appears next to him and ruffles his hair affectionately. “Good work, I’ll take care of rest.”

Akaashi sits on the side, while Oikawa rummages in guard’s things. There is a teaser attached to guy’s belt, along with baton and pistol, walkie-talkie in the pocket, cigarettes and lighter in another one.

“Why the fuck this guard doesn’t have gas mask?” Oikawa hisses, frustrated.

Akaashi shrugs. “He was abusing his authority, you expect him to do his job well?”

“Good point. I’m taking his cigarettes.”

“No, I’m taking. It was me who had to put up with molesting. In vain.”

“You liar, at least we have more weapons now. And share with me at least,” Oikawa clicks his tongue with dissatisfaction anyway. Rebels need gas masks and their current amount is not enough. Now they have only one way he wanted to avoid so much. “Kuro and Tsukki are going to kill me,” he whines.

Akaashi smiles reassuringly. “They are,” he agrees. “I’ll tell them to give you a break, okay? It’s not like I didn’t agree for this task.” He nods at unconscious man behind them. “What are you going to do with this?”

Oikawa looks at him and leans to whisper to his ear. “You see this strange shadow on the left? It’s Kuro. I guess he’s going to be busy with our guard. Now, let’s go. Be careful and follow me, it’s after curfew after all.”

Akaashi casts a last glance on his left, waving to the shadow and then he disappears in darkness.

 

 

Iwaizumi wakes up and notes he is covered with two blankets. He recalls taking only one and almost smiles, feeling a flow of affection towards his best friend. Almost, because being awake does not mean being alive.

He realizes that room is still dark and the source of light is coming from the kitchen what has to do something with Oikawa, of course. So he resigns from sleep on the couch and trudges to the kitchen.

A weak greenish light of the lamp illuminates Oikawa’s focused face. His nerdy glasses make dark circles under brown eyes even bigger, hair looks almost like an artistic mess.

“Are you going to sleep,” Iwaizumi mumbles with traces of sleep still in his voice.

Oikawa’s eyes lose their focus and soften. “Oh, hey Iwa-chan. I didn’t wake you up so don’t blame me,” he says and straightens his back. There is a sound of neck cracking. “Analysis of maps, strategies, weak points on both sides. Now’s the perfect time to think about it.”

Maybe Iwaizumi was living in imagine world, because according to his knowledge and his mother’s knowledge, and his grandmother’s knowledge, 4AM is not a perfect time to think about anything _at all_.

“Nice. But I don’t need you dying here from the exhaustion, so now you’re going to sleep.”

“We don’t have a lot of time, Iwa-chan, I’m not allowed to be selfish, okay? And going to sleep instead of working is selfish.”

Iwaizumi smacks Oikawa’s head lightly. “Don’t give me this bullshit ever again, shithead.”

Oikawa gasps and gapes at him with ‘I regret befriending you’ written on his face what doesn't bother Iwaizumi because he knows the truth – Oikawa Tooru wouldn't fucking live without him as this dumbass lacks fucking skills in taking care of hims

iwaizumi picks the other man up and drags him to couch with still warm blankets. Said man doesn't fight back and seconds later they are both laying, breathing in the same rhythm.

Iwaizumi feels a heaviness on his chest and slightly moves to change his position. He makes himself comfortable with Oikawa’s head on his torso and his own hand in brown locks.

“There were more arrests and unofficial purges,” Oikawa whispers eventually. “They got rid of Kunimi’s family.”

He stills at this revelation. “What about Kunimi?”

“He was with Yahaba when it happened. Officers are looking for him now, but they will probably let him go. He understands a message,” Oikawa’s voice is tensed up, just like shoulders Iwaizumi feels on his side.

“Did you talk with him?”

“I did talk with Yahaba. Kunimi is going to join us.”

“He’s full of regret. Don’t let him... live this way,” Iwaizumi sighs heavily. “Don’t encourage this kid.”

Oikawa let a small chuckle, which lacks any of happy tones. “You really believe that this world has any other driving force than regret and rage?” He slightly turns his head to look at Iwaizumi with strange gleam in eyes. “You have grown up on a good man. Idealistic one but still.”

“Are you saying me after twenty years of our horrible acquaintance that I’m a good one? I knew you underestimate me but still.”

There is a silence after this. Oikawa’s thoughts are wandering through his head ceaselessly despite his tiredness. Iwaizumi is doing the same thing because of the seed Oikawa has planted in his head.

He wouldn’t be a good man without Oikawa by his side.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _“-Japan announced her independence and cut all connection with inner world, making sure no unhealthy influence will be able to get into our country-”_ says voice from the speaker located in the corner of ceiling.

Oikawa sits on his cold metal bed without any mattress or bedsheet. His toes are numb from the coldness, like the rest of his body. There’s nothing he could warm himself up – having only a thin white t-shirt and grey sweatpants which only function is to cover him. They don't want to see him naked while monitoring him. _Fuckers_.

He’s not in prison, per se, he’s in Resocialization Centre.

Purpose of this institution is obvious – people who were caught on extremely illegal activity (read: resisting the government and for some reason they weren’t killed) are turned into brainwashed human specimen who wouldn’t cause any problems after therapy served there. _Therapy_ , Oikawa tsks.

The speaker in his cell is bombarding him with all propaganda about ideal system, sweet lies none of civillians believes in but everyone is too terrorised to do anything about it. 

_“-Japanese self-reliance has become a great inspiration for another countries-”_

_“-with safety of civilians in mind, government set up a curfew which reduced practically non-existing crime rate-”_

_“-radiation spread almost completely on our land. In this moment there are two habited cities, Tokyo and Sapporo which are completely sufficient, as expected. Both of these cities are closed- “_

_"-our system treats everyone equally-"_

He hasn’t eaten for days so he feels an overwhelming apathy and dire exhaustion which certainly leads to him dying but still being alive. Oikawa is aware they are giving him drugs through the ventilation what’s even crueller, because it's making him more sleepy but not able to fall asleep. Not to mention that drugs supposed to make him more vulnerable and prone to suggestion.

All of this to see him crumble, fall under pressure, bow in front of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

"Aaahhh, fuck," hisses Bokuto as Suga cleans his wound with alcohol. Gray-haired man reaches for the gauze and bandages.

Next to Bokuto, Iwaizumi is sitting with his brows furrowed and serious expression. Bokuto turns his attention from pain in his left arm to black haired man. “Hey hey, you’re analyzing everything again. We for sure didn’t leave any traces that would lead to us.”

“And you for sure didn’t have tails with you when you came here,” says sharply Suga. He couldn’t allow himself to be suspected of any kind of connection with rebels – nobody could actually – but if something threw a shade on him, that would be a disaster of every dimension. Not only he would lose his medical license, not only rebellion would lose a valuable ally, but a lot of not involved civilians would suffer because medical care isn’t really this common and easy to get. Suga feels somehow responsible for them.

Iwaizumi nods with understanding. “I’m sure nobody followed us. Again, really thanks, Suga-san,” Iwaizumi pats gently his abdomen, where he feels the gauze covering a small wound. Fortunately, it’s just a sharp gash on skin surface without deeper damage. Thank god for Iwaizumi’s reflex which allowed him to avoid an even closer meeting with his opponent’s knife.

“How did it go?” whispers Suga, his brown eyes pierce through him and Bokuto. The latter clears his throat.

“Smoothly. Except for a moment when I got shot but, generally, amazingly done job,” grins Bokuto and raises his healthy arm to show a fist with thump up, for emphasizing his words. He looks somehow carefully to Iwaizumi.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agrees. “Can’t tell you details, but they are goin’ to be confused. Some misunderstandings on the government side will be nice to see.”

He approaches the window and very carefully brushes curtains, just enough to see that no one is near the block they are in and where Suga has his flat. From this window he can see a high concrete walls that surround all Tokyo, separating it from the outside world. Height of walls isn’t the problem – it’s a barbed wire, usually live, that covers all the walls. Iwaizumi can’t see it from this place but ten minutes from Suga’s flat there is a always closed gate in the wall. No civilian, or even most of officials, can get out, so it’s clear that gate is just for show.

A subtle way to say that they are at the mercy of this perfect, of course utopian world of their, the picture created by government. And they are allowed to be here because government is so merciful and caring about their well-being.

Suga smiles brightly. “How sweet. But Iwaizumi-san, don’t mind me asking but how will Oikawa-san react on your wound?” Suga’s smile turns into mischievous one as if he knew something Iwaizumi doesn’t.

Iwaizumi’s lips twist into something strange. “Probably will freak out without reason, as always.” He remembers all times when he came back with bruises, even when they were children, and Oikawa was always panicking as if his friend was going to die.

 _A fucking drama queen_ , he thinks with tenderness.

And this time isn’t any different. Later, after reporting to Oikawa that, yes, they successfully took original documents and left counterfeit ones, he takes off his sweatshirt and t-shirt to change into another one, totally forgetting about-

“What have you done, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks with displeasure in his voice, visible also on the face and he approaches Iwaizumi.

“Just a scratch, don’t even start,” warns Iwaizumi. He doesn’t expect his friend to touch his abdomen, right above the gauze, fingers tracing along the dressing edges.

Iwaizumi almost stop breathing.

“Does it hurt?” Oikawa asks quietly as if scared he will break something. He has this strange look in his eyes, Iwaizumi tries to decipher and settles on option it’s worry mixed with something. Oikawa’s eyes focuses on his bare skin.

“Of course not, dumbass. I don’t even need to take painkiller we don’t have,” he says, slightly too dryly.

Oikawa takes his hand from Iwaizumi’s stomach, icy cold of his finger tips leaves burns which Iwaizumi gets rid of with putting t-shirt on. Brown haired man is no longer staring at his torso but on his face. They are looking at each other for a while, both breathing somehow unevenly and both _without reason_  of course to do so; then Oikawa excuses himself and takes documents Iwaizumi stole three hours ago.

 

 

A queue is constantly stretching out and they are standing there and waiting forever. Iwaizumi is busy looking at his shoes, while Kuroo and Tsukishima behind him are bickering in shushed voices, sometimes the first one laughing obnoxiously.

After an especially filthy joke from the man with horrible bedhead,  Iwaizumi raises his head and looks at them with frown. Both Kuroo and Tsukishima turn their heads and shrug, not caring about Iwaizumi’s sour expression.

A few fights, some insults, disapproving stares from Iwaizumi and people around later, they are out, with bread and other groceries in the backpacks.

They are pretty lucky today – deficit of food in shops leaves a lot of starving people on the streets. Or would leave because beggars are quickly taken care of, missing with no trace. It doesn’t solve the problem – there’s still not enough food to feed population in isolated Japan, in even more isolated city.

Pavement is still wet, puddles here and there are adorning a grey scenery of city. Tsukishima tries to avoid puddles and Kuroo non-stop pushes him towards them with hope for win. Iwaizumi would be a victim if not for the fact that his small-slightly-pretty-tiny revengeful side of him is a great danger to Kuroo.

(“You are no fun,” that’s what Kuroo said after an attempt of pushing Iwaizumi to huge puddle that did nothing to Iwaizumi who owns a pair of heavy combat boots. The only result was that Iwaizumi threw taller man over himself in act of self-defence and that’s why Kuroo has been in wet clothes all the time)

They hear a weak shout and see a guard ripping bread out of small hands of child. Boy doesn’t have any chance against well-built adult and his effort makes the guard even more angry and the latter one roughly pushes the child. There is a splash when boy lands on the pavement, dirtying his already unclean clothes. At least, guard leaves – some would enjoy themselves with kicking a lying person.

People around have lowered heads. Nobody reacts to displays of violence like this anymore.

Iwaizumi approaches the kid- teenager, he realizes standing close. A strands of ginger hair escaped from the hood, hair so colourful in contrast to monochrome surrounding. Handing something from his groceries, he says “Be careful, kiddo. The best place to get anything is area near old theatre. Guards in that place don't give a fuck about beggars or something like that,” he looks him straight in the eyes to make sure he hears and understands him clearly.

Bright intelligent eyes reciprocate the stare, as if evaluating whether the piece of bread Iwaizumi offers is not poisonous. Hunger wins and teenager nods in thanks and quickly disappears from his view.

Iwaizumi doesn’t feel especially better. It’s easy to help someone when guard is not watching.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I appreciate all the moments I see you, Ushiwaka-chan. You're sunshine in this reeducation camp.”

Ushijima is neither a fun nor sunshine, to Oikawa’s discontent. He won’t answer him with retort, he won’t mock him, he won’t call him a trash.

Ushijima will look at him with blank face (rarely, irritation), ignore Oikawa’s spite and tell him with annoying honesty how much disappointed he is because of Oikawa’s behaviour.

“You still can get help from us,” he says. “It is normal to feel guilty after committing so many felonies, which have not done any good to society. However living with your sins will give you strength. You will not forget your atrocious acts and it will be your reminder of things you should never do or think again.”

Oikawa looks at him with confusion, not really believing his ears. He feels almost bad for Ushijima who is obviously one of system puppets. Taught what’s good and what’s bad - he doesn’t have his own conscience because of government system being his god.  

Ushijima presses on button under metal desk and in front of Oikawa, on grey wall, a picture is showed. A ruins of buildings Oikawa has never seen before – dark blocks of concrete laying randomly and red stains under them-

Oikawa turns his head on Ushijima. “What the fuck are you showing me,” he hisses, refusing to even glance on picture again.

A man with broad shoulders doesn’t seem so disturbed as Oikawa. “Results of rebels’ activity. You bring and brought only deaths and now you can’t even see the extent of what have you done.” He stares at photo as if there was something alluring in death bodies.

Oikawa frowns as another picture is showed. Masses of people with crying children in the centre, all looking extremely malnourished, covered in dirt and scraps of clothes, every of them in need of medical care.

“Have you ever wondered what happened to children whose parents died while rebgels’ attacks? Diversions? This selfish behaviour of yours has never changed,” Ushijima comments, narrowing his eyes.

Oikawa can’t help it but fleeting thought appears in his mind. He organized a lot of operations but all of them were strictly aimed at certain guards and officials. He always made sure that none of civilians would get involved in anything so he doesn’t have to have conscience pangs. Right?

“You can’t accuse me of every bad thing,” Oikawa replies. “These photos were taken after one of accidents in nuclear power station. It’s your fault that majority of population died, motherfuckers,” he chides, eyes glowing with anger.

“And rebels were working in these stations so they are a very reason behind accidents,” Ushijima responds, as Oikawa rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, blame us all~”

Other pictures he’s forced to see, while Ushijima is analyzing them, aren’t better, all showing the cruel fate of people. Their sweet meeting is passing with tension in the thick atmosphere with all these tirades that supposed to make him doubt in good of his acts and become another puppet.

He should be now with Iwaizumi and Hanamaki, and Akaashi, and Kuroo, and others, stand by their side, support them, believe in them. Now he’s able to do only one of mentioned things, so he’s going to do it perfectly.

 

 

Dry cough shakes his body. Great.

So far, it seems like he’s been losing his fight against conditions he’s living in.

Exhaustion and drugs have an amazing impact on him but results are rather different, and pleasurable, from the expected ones. He would say that reality blends with fiction – but it’s easy to differ each of them because there’s no way for Iwaizumi to be here.

“All these doubts, Shittykawa,” he says, shaking his head in disapproval and disappointment and makes a place for himself on Oikawa’s bed to sit next to him. “Why the fuck do you have to doubt in everything?”

“Fuck you, Hajime,” he answers weakly to imaginary silhouette of Iwaizumi, hiding his face in knees drawn to his chest.

“At first you doubted yourself and your abilities to lead us to victory. Now it’s me you’re doubtin’ in?”

“So that’s the thing my subconsciousness wants to tell me?” he asks himself quietly and raises slightly his head and his eyes wander to Iwaizumi who stares at him with narrow eyes and scowl. “What? Now you are waiting for opportunity to call me dumbass?”

He suddenly feels a gentle touch of warm hand on his leg, right above knee. It’s such a big lie he ignores.

“I’ll call you dumbass whenever I want to, idiot,” his mind creation whispers in low voice which is able to make Oikawa’s heart ache. “Well, I miss you. Do you?”

Oikawa leans into false warmness of body. “I do.”


	2. i'm not your source of hope, i am the messenger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a feeling that Hans Zimmer - Time and Twisted Jukebox - Angels Will Rise reflect the atmosphere of this work the best, you can listen this while reading, more feelings

Five hours of sleep given to him destroyed a beautiful illusion which may come in another six or seven days , too long to wait but it’s not like Oikawa is going anywhere.

 There’s no Iwaizumi anymore so the only place where Oikawa can find him are his, memories, the only proofs of existing and living somewhere else before landing there. His brain feeds him with flashes of him and Iwaizumi. Them, being ten years old and playing hide and seek. Learning in school and getting detentions for stupid things they had done. Comforting each other as their parents were too much of trouble and were disposed of, an icy fury filling them slowly and effectively leading to joining already existing group of rebels, then being ahead of them all.

 Standing in the queue for one hour and buying bread and small bag of coffee needed to extend their day to thirty hours from not enough of twenty-four. Laying in the bed and talking about some quirks their friends have. Him miraculously finding a cigarette and giving it to Iwaizumi who has this bad habit of smoking whenever he can. Iwaizumi puffing a smoke at him to annoy him, just like Oikawa irritates him.

(He knows Iwaizumi is only half-annoyed. Another half is something else.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“All this radiation around us, I’m sure we’ll grow another leg or liver,” complains Bokuto, putting his head on the arms which are folded on the table. His words meet frown on the Tsukishima’s face

“We may get a cancer. Another leg or other mutation will happen in the next generations,” explains blond man. Bokuto gasps, disappointed with this reality.

“You can’t grow another limb, Bokuto-san. I’m not going to-”

“Keiji wants to tell you that he won’t accept you like this,” snickers Kuroo from the other side of the couch. Four of them are lucky – couch is the best place to sit. Maybe that’s a reason why Tsukishima is smirking with superiority right now.

Before Bokuto can say anything, Oikawa claps to get attention from everyone, which means mentioned foursome, Terushima, Hanamaki, Matsukawa, Yahaba and of course Iwaizumi.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi stand by the desk with Hanamaki sitting comfortably on the chair between them. Matsukawa behind him massages his shoulders what makes Hanamaki hiss in painful pleasure once in a while. Terushima and Yahaba sit on the floor, their backs leaned against the loads of dusted boxes, there is more of them than furnitures. Tooru’s eyes are unbearably warm, tears prickling along the rims of his brown eyes, outlining his eyelashes as he squints and sniffles. Fuck his allergies.

“So, everyone remembers how the plan looks like, right? Kuroo, take a look at this to make sure you won’t forget and get lost,” Oikawa hands him a plan of building. “Tsukki, Keiji make sure one more time you have enough amount of spray paint and you have to take emergency exit C, not A or B.” He gets a nod from Akaashi as a response and quiet pout from Tsukishima along with something like ‘don’t call me Tsukki’.

“And you’re sure this won’t affect anyone? I mean, no dead bodies,” asks Yahaba, looking more at the floor than Oikawa.

“Of course not! It’s not an anthrax so,” Oikawa shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “The most important rule is to have gas mask, don't forget about it. But! Me and Mattsun are going be longer than any of you in the building so we deserve for prizes from you. Do any of you have cigarettes?”

“You don't smoke,” Terushima points out with raised eyebrow, not very willing to give his cigarettes to someone. “What are doing with your ciggies, put them in your asshole?”

“Warm but no. Not your business, bitch,” replies Oikawa and pokes his tongue out in childish manner. (small digression: Oikawa overuses a word 'bitch' and everyone blames Terushima who used to call everybody around him a 'bitch' until Oikawa didn't take this ugly habit from him. Terushima stopped because he claims he doesn't want to be identified with Oikawa Tooru ever)

Akaashi doesn’t miss this brief moment when Oikawa looks at Iwaizumi but decides not to say anything. He doesn’t really care about it so instead of jumping unnecessarily into chat, he leans his head on Kuroo’s shoulder, at the same time scratching Bokuto behind the left ear, something what the latter adores.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _“You need help,”_ says monotonous voice from the speaker. _“First step is a will to repentance for your sins.”_

Silence answers better than words.

_“Destroying others’ life guided you here. It’s unjust that your fate looks better than fate of these whom this chance to lead life was taken from them.”_

 The ones who can’t lead their life, as they are dead, destroyed others’ life too. Maybe not always with violence but with ignorance and indifference. Various results of government’ acts like high crime rate, high incidence rate, a lot of deaths. These resulted in even higher crime rate as community divided into two groups – quiet one and rebellious one.

_“We could just banish you and you would die due to radiation outside the city. Die slowly and suffer like all victims of yours.”_

Oikawa doesn’t even roll his eyes. They haven’t given him any water for two days.

 

 

Later, they make him drink so much litres of water, he’s vomiting. When he pukes trying to relieve himself a little bit (oh my, they gave him this privilege? Unbelievable), Ushijima is giving him another lecture about unhealthy influence of Oikawa’s alleged friends.

“They are deceivers who take advantage of your great brain. Which could be bright but currently is blinded and shadowed with a filthy insurgents’ ideology,” informs Ushijima with voice which, of course, lacks emotions.

Oikawa read about this method once. Good memories which are changed into bad ones, as a result of being tortured while being also forced into thinking about a certain subject. In his case – he’s thinking about his friends and also he’s vomiting and given a lecture about his friends’ harmfulness.

So, he’s now sick and any thought about his intimates should make him sick in the future because of equating these two subjects, sickness and friends. What a sophisticated method. Fitting to Ushijima.

Oikawa wipes his chin off and coughs as if he wanted to get rid of his lungs. After a wave of hideously sounding cough he chuckles weakly or rather morbidly.

“What is the matter?” asks Ushijima, his eyebrow twitches slightly in confusion.

“Ah, I just thought that... Well, If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re hitting on me. All these compliments...”

Guards force him to drink more water to shut him up. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There it is. No place for fuck up or thinking about fucking up.

As Hanamaki approaches receptionist and ask her about things, Oikawa slides through the doors and passes a few corridors, meeting Matsukawa who took other way to get here. A gas masks they wear prevent not only from seeing their faces by guards but also from seeing emotions by each other. It helps – panic doesn’t rise up so quickly as it would.  

It takes a few unconscious, roped and gagged guards to gain an access to monitoring and ventilation.

Oikawa brings out some heavy bottle from his backpack and another one from Matsukawa’s and tries to plug it somehow to the system of ventilation. Matsukawa averts his eyes from Oikawa, watching over if someone isn’t going there. But he knows that Oikawa didn't tell them a whole truth earlier. Maybe there will be no anthrax but something else, partially toxic what is going to do a damage to some people.

(Matsukawa made sure earlier that Hanamaki won't be affected.)

Oikawa quickly gets how system works, turning off and on some switches. Some diodes light on red or blue, some of them don’t but it doesn’t have to mean they are not working.

They hear footsteps, sound of them stops along with heavy sound. Oikawa doesn’t turn to see laying body next to Matsukawa who holds a gun in one hand and teaser in another one.

“Two minutes,” says Matsukawa, clock is ticking.

 

 

He orders Matsukawa to run and follows only a few second later. The problem is that someone appears in front of Oikawa, precisely between him and Matsukawa, so Oikawa’s friend doesn’t even see what’s going on behind his backs. He can’t even hear, because everything around is chaos – people running with tears on cheeks, coughing, some fainting.

It happens like this – a young guard with black gas mask appears but it’s Oikawa who has advantage because brown haired man isn’t as much surprised as guard. Oikawa attacks him, aiming for solar plexus. Younger reacts fast (nametag ‘Kageyama Tobio’ flashes before Oikawa's eyes) and avoids a hit, striking back. Oikawa doesn’t feel any pain, what a beautiful effect of adrenaline however the hormone makes Oikawa’s hits slightly less precise.

Whole fight is a blur, as both of rebel and soldier are at their best, nobody giving up, everyone glowing with fierce determination.

It continues like this – Oikawa manages to cut off Kageyama's leg, guard sways and their small combat seems to be settled, it’s Oikawa’s win. It only seems because while falling Kageyama outstretches his leg, kick landing on Oikawa’s knee. Achilles heel. Legs buckle under him and he doesn’t even manages to fall down as Kageyama is hovering above him, soldier’s hands catching his own, soldier’s knee thrusting into his stomach.

Oxygen becomes something painful.

It finishes like this – with electric shock that shakes his body and makes it limp. He is aware of a few things before losing consciousness. One, their mission is probably successful and the only thing fucked up is him. Two, soldier’s shouting which causes his ears are hurting. Three, if they won’t kill him, Iwaizumi will and he doesn’t mind it at all.

It's such a shame it won't be Iwaizumi.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a fresh memory of him and Iwaizumi standing in their small flat; it’s not hard to recall as it's happened quite recently, a few hours before fucking up. Oikawa offering him a matches and cigarettes acquired earlier. Oikawa quietly talking nonsense about the outer world, behind the walls. Iwaizumi having an abrupt urge to shush him and exhaling a smoke in Oikawa’s face what makes the latter’s eyes water. Hanamaki is in their kitchen, not even a three metres away from them, looking for tea or something.

Oikawa is coughing, while Iwaizumi puffs his burning smoke somewhere on the side and his next decision is something what Oikawa has hoped for a long time but never has done something in this direction.

There’s a distance between them and in next moment there isn’t. Their chapped lips are almost only brushing but thanks to Oikawa who gives more pressure they can say it’s subtle kissing. Iwaizumi forgets about the cigarette, letting the ash fall on the floor while his other hand slides under Oikawa’s t-shirt and finds its proper place on his back. A cigarette smoke disappears, just like curtains can rise up, what gives Hanamaki a perfect view if he wanted to see what’s going on these few metres away.

Oikawa remembers a burning feeling on his lips, a smell which has never been so appealing, a touch of strong hand with rough fingertips holding him in this room, in this world, this universe. He himself places his hands on Iwaizumi’s hips to be even more _here_. Their breathes are warming each other’s cheeks but of course if someone asked why they are blushing then probably ‘sharing a warmness’ wouldn’t be a good answer. 

The sound of Ushijima’s voice bring him back. Another lesson about repentance, guiltiness and punishment. Something cracks in him, he doesn’t even hear this crack but it is – he’s weaker and more prone to suggestion.

 _I hurt someone, I exposed my people to danger, I don’t deserve-_ , are his thoughts and Ushijima knows them because silence offered by him is to give Oikawa time to overthink.

 

 

It happens like this – another day without sleep and with minimal portion of water and meal without nutritional value, nothing is different from the monotonous routine of his day. He’s in Ushijima office, handcuffs are hurting his wrists as always, cuts never really have time for healing.

It continues like this – another question directed to him and he doesn’t want to answer but he doesn’t have to because chaos ensues. Deaf silence turns into alarming commotion, stillness into running, fake smiles into true shouts and teasers used on prisoners into guns used on guards and interrogants.

Oikawa’s eyes wander toward the door in the room, with hope which fortunately isn’t visible on his face. Ushijima keeps a cool head as expected of him and moves to stand  behind Oikawa, his hand on his shoulder. _Ah, so that’s it_.

When doors open and someone comes into the picture, Ushijima’s cold hand finds its place on Oikawa’s nape. “You will do anything and he has a broken neck. I highly doubt it is your intention.”

Ushijima unlocks his handcuffs but Oikawa doesn’t feel very different because broad man holds Oikawa’s wrists behind him in firm grasp of one hand. The other hand is on his nape, creating an uncomfortable feeling and something in his throat. Oikawa would definitely fall on the floor from the lack of any strength in his muscles but his interrogant doesn’t let him as he uses him as a hostage.

Ushijima doesn’t make any mistakes ever. But now isn’t _ever_ , now is the perfect time. Oikawa intentionally stumbles over nothing, his left knee hits the floor, wrists are twisted in cruel way but he manages to live. For these two seconds as Oikawa falls, the hand on his nape disappears giving a chance to do anything, to finish this.

So it finishes like this – Oikawa’s wish is fulfilled. A loud _bang_ resonates in the hallways, resounds in his ears, echoes in his head and he’ll later for sure relive this moment, the sound appearing again and again. Splashes of red in his view – a few of drops landing on his left cheek and neck, a few of them on his t-shirt. Grasp on wrists isn’t there anymore and Ushijima falls down, meeting face to face with him.

Oikawa see the fluttering of his eyes, the very last look he casts and destiny wanted _him_ to be the last person Ushijima sees in his life. Between Oikawa and Ushijima is a blood pouring from Ushijima’s fatal wound, the former one raising himself on his elbows and finally tearing his eyes away from dying person next to him. Even after this, Oikawa hears his last words.  

He’s not surprised when there’s someone who helps him to stand up, who takes him in embrace which is strong enough to assure him everything will be fine but weak enough not to affect his body anymore.

He’s not surprised to find himself in Iwaizumi Hajime’s arms, hoping for no end of this, for the end of all the rest.

“From one to ten how much are you exhausted?” Iwaizumis asks and after an unsuccessful attempt of making a few steps, man decides to lift Oikawa, sliding one arm under knees and second one behind his back. He makes no comments on how Oikawa's changed - how his weight is nothing, how he can almost touch his bones, how big are the circles around his eyes, how there's everything to heal.

(They saw this way of lifting someone in two another circumstances. One time, on the wedding and second time, right after purge, when someone lifted body of their dead beloved one)

(Iwaizumi and Oikawa still haven’t decide if lifting someone in this way is happily romantic or tragically romantic)

“Eleven,” Oikawa whispers.

He’s can’t even describe what he feels now, when he sees Iwaizumi after these tiring weeks of all deprivation, where he was left only with his blurry memories. But also, there’s a nagging feeling, something what itches him. _Was all of this necessary?_

And last words of Ushijima, _nothing will change_ , it makes him slightly anxious. And he can’t help it. So he asks. “What are we going to do after overthrowing the government?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer, also not knowing.

It ends like this – the uneasiness in their guts, anxiousness in their throats, gentle kisses in their lips and too many questions and no sure reply to give. Wounds to heal and cigarette smoke to exhale and time to wait and overthink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading,  
> terencjusz


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